


Let's Be Late

by Anonymous



Category: Charmed (TV 2018)
Genre: Anal Play, Bent over a desk, F/M, butt stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:06:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22350799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Harry and Macy donotmake it to dinner on time.
Relationships: Harry Greenwood/Macy Vaughn
Comments: 6
Kudos: 40
Collections: Anonymous





	Let's Be Late

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Majestrix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Majestrix/gifts), [myspaceout](https://archiveofourown.org/users/myspaceout/gifts).



> To my FABULOUS sounding board, thank you so much for even deigning to look at my ongoing and unremitting ridiculousness!! Someday when I am no longer too much of a chickenshit to put my name on this I am totally gifting this to you. But in the meantime? This one's for you!!!

Macy finds Harry stretched over the front of his office desk reaching for something in a drawer when he could have just as well walked around. They’re about to be late meeting her mother and her mother’s colleagues for dinner. Well, Macy is about to be late. Harry was instructed to deliver Macy to the restaurant but was not, being ‘just her whitelighter’, himself invited. 

And to be honest, the casual dismissal of the man, the being that is at least in part their creation, irritates Macy to no end. So whatever he’s trying to do, if it makes them late? Fine, let them be late. Let those so-called Elders stew. 

Besides, when such a deliciously pert ass is staring one in the face, hidden from view by only a single layer of finely tailored cloth how can she be blamed for indulging herself just a little?

-

Harry feels the smooth, cold metal of his pen slip upwards against the lip of the drawer. He flicks at it and it flies up and out of said drawer. He’s filled with a momentary rush of triumph as the pen lands neatly in the palm of his outstretched hand. A breeze hits his back as his office door swings open bringing with it her uniquely provocative scent, a rich and heady combination of her soaps and hair products, wafting past him. Since the first time he buried his face in her hair and breathed in her scent as he spilled himself into her clever hands he has never been able to catch the scent of her without the tickle of arousal stirring up trouble behind his flies. 

Before he’s able to push himself up from the desktop Harry feels her warm presence already so close behind him. Without so much as a good afternoon she runs a finger firmly along the seam of the seat of his trousers. His palm slips against the desk’s polished surface and nearly crashes face first down onto the desk. He tries to straighten up but she's pressing her finger right against his opening. Pushing, tapping as if hitting enter on a keyboard. Tap, tap, tap. He found himself getting hard the moment she walked into his office. Now there’s no hiding his erection, at least not in these trousers. But it seems she has no interest in seeing his cock so much as making it discharge his cum all over the inside of his trousers.

Tap, tap, tap.

He can barely hold himself off of the desk. He’s down on his shaking forearms and his forehead is pressed against the pointless but officious looking desk blotter.

“Macy, please.” He’s not exactly sure what he’s begging for. For her to stop? For her to keep going? For her to give him the briefest of reprieves so he can gather enough wherewithal to wrestle his flies open and wrap his hand around his now furiously aching length.

Tap, tap, tap.

“Macy, darling- Sweetheart… I-” Harry gasps, hips pushing shamelessly back against her fingers.

Tap, tap, tap.

Tap, tap, t-

Then suddenly nothing. 

Her hand moves away and he whimpers. His forehead grinds down against the desk as his hips lift and push backwards in search of just one more touch. Harry mutters her name in a tone both pleading and chiding, lips pressed tightly against the blotter on his desk.

But just as he's about to push himself up, his palms already flattened and sliding closer for leverage, Harry feels Macy's own, hot palm sliding up his spine. The heat of her hand nearly burning him through his thin, cotton dress shirt. He wonders if she hasn't put just a little bit of power into her touch.

He groans. Loudly. Too loudly for where they are and when. There could very well be students still milling about these halls, waiting for or leaving some late evening lecture. Harry's hips twitch at the thought of some random students hearing him moan out his pleasure, not knowing how well his darling Macy is playing his body with the just lightest of touches against his still clothed arsehole.

He hears more than feels the clank of his belt buckle being undone and feels the heavy drop of his trousers falling to his knees. Harry shudders as she moves to crouch down beside his leg, her hand smoothing down the inside of his thigh before pulling his trousers the rest of the way down to rest against his ankles. She rises back to her feet and a long sigh stutters out from Harry’s lips as she drapes herself over his back.

She’s asking him if he wants to be late.

He knows he shouldn’t say, ‘yes’. She’s meeting with her mother. She’s meeting with the _Elders._ Oh, he really, really mustn't. 

But her fingers have returned and he is sobbing out, “Yes. _Yes_. Oh god, Macy, sweetheart, _yes_!

Macy's hands are at his opening and he hears her whisper an incantation against his ear, one he, himself, taught her on another night like this when it was she that was bent over his desk. He feels warmth and wetness and her fingers pressing and pressing and pressing. She searches around and each twitch and turn and twist of her fingers inside him sets off a supernova behind his eyes. And then she finds what she's looking for and his entire world explodes and disappears.

He comes to still draped over his desk, mouth agape as he tries to suck in panting breath after breath. She's no longer against his back but he can feel her presence very, very near, none the less.

He can feel her reaching around him and he feels delicate tendrils of her power flowing and twisting over her fingers and smoothing past the flesh between his legs and buttocks. It tingles in a way that is not so much arousing as it is comforting, if such a thing could be said about having actual, literal magic worked over one’s cock, balls and arsehole. Harry hums his appreciation as Macy’s magic works to clean him up, mopping away the conjured moisture and copious evidence of his enjoyment. Now if only something could be done about the damp way is dress shirt is clinging to the entirety of his back.

She gives his naked backside a soft stroke and a pat before leaning down to whisper in his ear, “There, fresh as a daisy.”

He gives her a dazed, almost vacant grin as she pulls him up to stand, or rather lean, against the edge of his desk. Harry bends over to try and snag the waistband of his trousers but his overly relaxed body fails to adequately cooperate and he very nearly topples over. Very nearly, but not quite. Macy plants a quick hand against his shoulder and prevents him from going tail over teakettle. 

He follows her gaze to the floor and watches with barely contained mirth as his trousers rise slowly up his legs, over his knees and then high enough for him to take hold of the waistband. Harry works to make himself decent, hands still too loose and boneless to make quick work of anything. She rolls her eyes at his slowness but presses her curved mouth against his before swatting his hands away to tuck him away herself. In his blissed out, post-orgasmic haze he can't help the loud, punchy laugh that bursts out of him at the absurdity of it all.

He looks at Macy, images of her looking just as wrecked with pleasure as he feels begin to fill his head. His mind flips through all the ways he can put his hands, his mouth and his cock in her until she is moaning mindlessly beneath him.

"Okay, we should get going. Dinner is probably…"

The words float up to him from somewhere beyond the haze. Harry replies an affirmative, enjoying her huff of surprised laughter as he gathers her against him. He fits her against his body, her legs between his and her chest pressing into his.

Macy pulls back and gives him a curious look. He chases forward, barely managing to brush his lips against hers before she speaks again.

“Wait, where is it you think we’re going, Harry?”

He sighs and drops his face to the crook her neck, the scent of her skin too intoxicating to resist. Harry nuzzles at her neck and places a soft, sucking kiss there before answering.

"Home."

Macy snorts out a laugh, loving and indulgent. “Oh Harry, no. We c-”

But before anything more can be said the couple disappears from sight.


End file.
